


Art Thou a Witch?

by HSavinien



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BDSM, Consensual, Friends With Benefits, Multi, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Role-Playing Game, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-10
Updated: 2009-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink-meme prompt: Grownup Adam and Spanish-Inquisition themed BDSM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art Thou a Witch?

"Art thou a witch?" the voice growled behind him, hot breath stirring the hairs on the back of his neck. The blindfold tightened across his eyes as his head was pulled back, neck baring to his captors.

"Hast thou consorted with demons, with succubi, incubi, and other foul creatures in immoral congress? Hast thou made obeisance before the Prince of Lies?" the second voice, lower, asked as teeth worried the curve of his shoulder.

"Hast thou fornicated with warlocks, with witches and their familiar spirits in that mockery of the most holy Sabbath?" Adam gasped. A knife edge against his skin made him shudder away, toward the tormentor before him. A sharp 'riiip' and the material of his shirt gave way to the blade, baring his torso.

"Do such thoughts excite you? Do they arouse you, Devil's get?" The shirt bunched around his manacled hands, which clenched rhythmically at the chain anchored between his knees.

"Thy punishment will be savage, witch." The voice at his back was rougher now, the cool steel trailing up Adam's spine as he tried to control his shivers. He opened his mouth, trying to gasp, but a hot tongue invaded it, a hot mouth brutalized his.

"Filthy, cursed, renegade magus," the deeper purr before him added, releasing him, allowing him to breathe. The rough, uneven panting of his own lungs burned through him, deafening him. Dimly he felt his belt pried open, his trousers torn as they were shoved down. He stiffened as the knife reversed direction, sliding down his back. The steel froze him, but he was burning, desperate for the touch.

"Make me sorry," he panted. "Make me sorry..." The knife clattered on the floor somewhere off in the corner of his consciousness. "Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper...*" Adam broke off with a sharp bark of pain as nails (short, clean, precise) scored red fire down his chest. Larger, rougher hands closed on his hips from behind, pressing him forward. He fell into the waiting hands, was repositioned on elbows and knees. There was a wet sound on the edge of hearing. "Please!" One- two wet fingers pressed into him, a fist closed in his draggled blond curls, and the sensations focused him on the slick, breathy noise of the men kissing above him. "Guh...Brian...Wensley, please!"

Then his mouth was too busy for any more talk and his body was burning and doing the begging as his friends traded breath and curses over him.

* * *

*As it was in the beginning, and now, and ever...


End file.
